


You don't get to ignore Stiles Stilinski.

by Mareridt



Series: 31 Sterek Fics - August edition [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison is still an hunter, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Bottom Stiles, CEO Derek Hale, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Couch Sex, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Desk Sex, Everybody Lives, M/M, Mates, Office Sex, Scott is human, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Top Derek Hale, Werewolf Derek, hale family is alive, only the end is sex tho, the rest is T, words on skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7662964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareridt/pseuds/Mareridt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wondered if they ever saw his messages, if they ignored him on purpose being the everall asshole of a lifetime or if they had been busy.<br/>Maybe he did have a little idea to get an answer out of them, didn't he?<br/>So that was basically how Stiles found himself getting up, grabbing a marker from the desk and walking up in front of the mirror in the bathroom. With an evil cackle, he drew a giant penis on his forehead, handling every single detail with a steady hand.  No one could ignore Stiles Stilinski for so long, not if they wanted to keep their sanity. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mostly T, the E part is just in the end! The last little paragraph in the end end is still T.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You don't get to ignore Stiles Stilinski.

**Author's Note:**

> Second part of the 31 Sterek Fic - August Edition! This is for 2nd August!
> 
> It's taken from this amazing art by Berry_Muffin, you can find it here: http://berry-muffin.tumblr.com/post/141370334855/so-about-this-soulmate-au

 

 

They say since your very first breath you share an unbreakable bond with just another human on the whole planet.

They say, that bond is what will make your life complete. It's something you will enjoy till the end of your days, something that will bring happiness to you since the moment you wake up in the morning till the moment you go to sleep at night.

The _soulmate_ bond is something everyone has, and it's unique, irreplaceable, and you can have anything from it. You will have anything it can give, and you will give the same amount of life to it, because the bond is a deal for a lifetime, and it has to be balanced to work.

You will never hear of broken bonds, you'll never hear of unsafe bonds. When you find it, because you _will_ find it, they say you'll start to life.

Of course, Stiles didn't believe it. It sounded too cheesy, too fairytale-ish, but he did believe it could make someone happy. He was not blind, and he did have a great memory, thank you very much. He remembered looking at his mother with wide eyes when messy dark letters appeared on her white creamy skin, letters forming words, forming sentences with an actual sense.

He remembered her reading them aloud for him when he still couldn't read by himself, laughing and shaking her head. “He says, I'll be home around 9. Tell Stiles to not mess up my study again”, she whispered, as if that message on her skin, written by no other than her own soulmate, Stiles' dad, was classified.

It made Stiles feel special, as if only he could be a witness of that happiness, the one he could see in both his parents' eyes. As a little boy, he dreamed of finding that same happy ending, wondering _is it a girl or a boy?_ He was fine with both, really, and he knew his parents were as well, if the day he came from his first day of school as a first grader shouting “There's a kid in my class and he's so _cuuuute_!” just to have his father laugh and his mother ask for details was anything to go by.

When his mother died, though, Stiles started to think that maybe a happy ending didn't exist. Maybe it was just everything “die before it ends” or so, but he still saw the love in his father's eyes, along with the pain, everytime he mentioned her.

When Stiles crushed hard on Lydia Martin, he decided he wanted to give the fate a shot anyway.

He tried his own shot with her once during English, writing “what's your name?” (even if he knew it perfectly) on his fingers when she was examinated her red, perfect nails.

It was his sophomore year, Scott had just found his own soulmate, a brown-haired dimpled girl named Allison, casually Lydia's new best friend, so Stiles wanted to have his own happy moment.

The disappointment was so strong he actually stopped paying attention to the lesson, ending up in detention with his English teacher.

Well, they couldn't say he didn't try it all with her ten-years-plan's girl. Unfortunately, the only disappointment strong than finding out Lydia wasn't his “mate”, was that his significant other didn't answer.

They never did, for a – in his mind of a teenager – very long time. Which meant, actually, two years.

It was two months before the end of his senior year. Stiles was doing his homework in the loneliness of his bedroom, bored out of his mind, and was looking for something to have fun with. It was four in the afternoon, and he wondered what his soulmate was up to in that same moment.

He wondered if they ever saw his messages, if they ignored him on purpose being the everall asshole of a lifetime or if they had been busy.

Oh, well.

Maybe he did have a little idea to get an answer out of them, didn't he?

So that was basically how Stiles found himself getting up, grabbing a marker from the desk and walking up in front of the mirror in the bathroom. With an evil cackle, he drew a giant penis on his forehead, handling every single detail with a steady hand.

No one could ignore Stiles Stilinski for so long, not if they wanted to keep their sanity.

 

 

Derek Hale, on the other hand, didn't exactly mean to ignore him. The first time he saw that message written on his hand, he felt his heart pick up like a rabbit, and he immediately ran to tell his sister.

Later, he regretted doing so, but when he saw that messy handwriting on his fingers, he couldn't but feel excited to no end. His soulmate had just asked his name! Derek absolutely needed a marker to answer back, but Laura told him it would have been useless.

You couldn't write your own name or your current adress through the bond, because the encounter had to be natural. Frankly, Derek called it bullshit, but it was indeed true. As soon as he wrote “Derek Hale” on his arm, the words dissolved into his skin.

He initially thought it was because he was a werewolf, but then why were his significant other's words still there?

He eventually gave up, just smiling when he saw them but without answering.

He was in college at the time, in New York, having moved with his sister because after Kate he needed some time away from Beacon Hills.

Kate was the woman he thought was his soulmate after Paige, but boy, was he wrong. She was too nice, too perfect, and he was too vulnerable from his recent loss, so he didn't doubt of her good intentions at first. Derek was sure he would have never doubted, if he didn't “fuck up” her relationship on his own.

That because, wondering if Kate was the right one, he wrote on her arm a single word, _jaguar_ , waiting for it to appear on his skin as well. When it was clear it wouldn't have, he decided to break up with her and wait for his soulmate.

Of course, Kate didn't take it well, and started yelling. In the end, she revealed herself as just a hunter, a cruel woman waiting for him to show her the perfect way to kill his family. She was a psycopath, and Talia Hale had her arrested in less than twenty-four hours after the confession.

Now, in New York, he found happiness again, and every day that messy handwriting showed itself on his tanned skin, it became even better.

Derek felt sad and hurt when the writing stopped, but he moved on, figured he just had to wait a bit, till he could find them.

He finished college, took a degree in business and a master in the same facoulty – yes, well, he wasn't the greatest one when it came to diplomacy and discussion with other companies, but he was indeed very carismatic and influent – and after studying he became the CEO of the Hale's business company in New York, who's director was nonetheless Laura Hale, his sister.

Talia, his mother, had been happy to see how they changed their life without their Alpha mom putting a good word with anyone, and now, Derek had his own office, his own PA and his own sector. It felt so good he almost forgot about the messy handwriting.

That was until one day Erica, Laura's PA, a soft curled blonde with plenty of feminine curves, came in his office to schedule a meeting for the next months with other important society and just after sparing a glance at his face she snorted.

Derek glared at her, confused, but Erica answered with a loud soulfelt laugh, patting her knee and losing breath quickly. “Oh, my God– This is _awesome_ , I have to tell Laura!” she yelled, not stopping. “And Boyd, and Isaac, and oh, damn, your mother too, it's just... Pfffttt!”

The wolf was quick to lose his patiente and growled. (Did he mention that his family was a family of werewolves and both his PA, Laura's PA and another guy were in the pack?) “ _WHAT?_ ”

“You should- AHAHAH GOD, you should see yourself!” Erica leaned on the door, not able to answer properly, and the noise drawed attention from the outside, until Boyd, a dark-skinned guy with a lot of muscles and Isaac, a blond with a love for scarves even during the summer, respectively the security official of the floor and his PA, came to look what was happening. Needless to say, Isaac joyned straight on Erica in their display of fun, while Boyd just snorted and shook his head. Derek seriously considered firing the two blondes and keeping the big guy here with them.

“Someone please care to tell me what the fuck are you laughing about?” he warned, snarling. Boyd sighed.

“You should go wash your face, boss” Boyd said, – and no, he didn't hesitate to correct the guy because he liked being called boss, shut up – smirking. “It looks like your soulmate is a little shit like few.”

Derek irked an eyebrow, but got up to check on his face. When he did see the giant penis drown on his forehead, he growled and valutated answering with a damn marker just to spite him. But he didn't, he firmly contained himself and washed his skin clear, wondering if the silence hadn't been better than _that_.

 

 

No answer came, not even that time.

Stiles waited the whole day for any kind of mark on his body, but nope, no sign of life on the other side of the line. He seriously wondered if he was bonded with a vegetal, or if his soulmate did know how to write.

Ugh, of course they did.

Wait, what if– What if they were _married_? And ignored him because they didn't want to end their marriage? _What if they had kids_? Oh, fuck. He was nearly college age, but having kids so young? Oh, oh, no way. No fucking way.

Nah, it couldn't be that, could it. Obviously not.

Maybe he just drew with a steady but almost soft hand, so they didn't even feel it. In that case, he promised to provide to that with a harder touch next time.

 

 

It happened again during a meeting, the following month.

One moment he was speaking with the manager of a rival business company, threatening to charge them into a trial if they found again one of their employers – Boyd's credit, actually – to spy again on them; right after he was feeling a itching sensation on his forearm, as if someone was pressing a pointed object against his skin. As if someone was–

Derek froze.

No. That couldn't be possible. They couldn't be writing on his fucking skin right in that exact moment, because in that case, if the person decided it could have been fun writing again on his face, he was downright fucked. Like, deeply well fucked.

The manager didn't notice his frozen state, but Laura was, and she was quick enough to carry on the conversation instead of him, giving him time to control his forearm under the table.

Stiles had gone hard that once.

He had pressed angrily the marker against the flesh and wrote a lot of not-children-friendly words, concluding with: “Are you male or female? Well, it doesn't matter, because YOU'RE STILL AN ASSHOLE.”

Derek kept himself from growling and flashing his eyes at the words, because he didn't wait two years, almost three, just to have his soulmate insulting him like he was some bully from high school! He pondered answering, but Laura asked him a question, and he momentanely forgot about it.

Stiles was different, though, he didn't like being forgotten. So he went on at it writing everything that came on his mind, from the essay he had to deliver the following day to his favourite cake, to again the reason why they were such an asshole at him.

He wrote it all along his right arm, inching closer to the collarbone, and if would have been a nice beautiful thing if he didn't do it out of spite of being ignored. He just wanted to be considered, was it really too much to ask?

Derek didn't think of that, not in those terms, but he did think of finding his significant other, so Stiles, and choke them with a pillow so he could go back to his meeting. The itch followed his arm, stopping right over the heart. He hoped Stiles was done, but he wasn't anywhere near it.

When the wolf felt the itch coming closer to his neck, right where he couldn't hide it, he thought _fuck it_ and grabbed a pen. Under the table, he wrote on his clean forearm a warning, hoping it could be enough, but knowing his soulmate, probably wasn't: _Stop it._

Stiles couldn't believe his lucky ass when it happened. It felt good, almost like a fleeting touch, and then elegant, classy letters showed themselves on his white-y skin. “Oh, fuck, it worked!” he grinned like an idiot and proceeded to dance awkwardly around the room, but he was still angry at them for answering so very late.

_No way, Sourmate_ , he wrote right back. _You don't get to ignore me._

Derek pressed his lips tight until they reduced to a thin angry line. Laura was not happy to see that, but didn't say anything. She could clearly hear the low growl in his throat, even if the manager on the other side of the table couldn't. _Stop it NOW_.

Stiles grinned again. _Make me_.

Derek didn't answer, and that was a mistake, because after five minutes the itch came to life again, and he was getting done. _If you don't cut if off, I'm gonna rip your throat out_.

Reading the sentence, Stiles gaped. Wait, what? What kind of threat was that? What kinky bastard could do that? OH GOD what if he was the soulmate of the modern Hannibal Lecter?! Shit, he had to prepare an eventual escape plan.

He mouthed a couple of time, not knowing what to say. _You can't do that, asshole! I'm your soulmate!_

Derek narrowed his eyes. _WITH MY TEETH_.

Stiles was shocked. _YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS. HOLY SHIT. YOU'RE A FUCKING FREAK._

He didn't feel safe in his own house anymore. Who the hell threatened to rip their mate's throat out with _their fucking teeth_? He got distracted from other words painted on his hand.

_Just stop, for fuck's sake, I'm in the middle of a serious business meeting. Enough is enough_.

The hyperactive kid stopped dead in his tracks to the bathroom. Oh, really? Serious business meeting? Who was he going to marry, an old person? Damn. But anyway... His soulmate was about to learn not to tell those things to Stiles.

Stiles snickered. _I'm gonna make you regret you ever told me_. And with that, he took a red pen and started doodling on his right cheek.

 

 

It went on for months, after that.

Almost ruining Derek's important meeting costed Stiles the beginning of an endless limitless war, which led to awkward moments when he had to explain why he was getting beautiful green painted moustache on his face during his last exam.

Coach Finstock had looked at him and said: “That's another reason you gave me to keep drinking, Bilinski, every single night.” and then, just for good measure, he shouted: “Greenberg, do not even look at me! Do you pathetic exam!”

Stiles hoped the earth could open and swallow him whole, especially when Scott patted his back and Allison gave him a sympatethic smile. Just Lydia, who he'd found himself becoming great friends with, arched an eyebrow and got back to her exam, shaking his head in resignation.

They didn't stop even during summer, and in the end, almost everyone in their family knew about their war. They also got to know each other, even if for indirect details, like that Stiles' dad was a Sheriff, or Derek worked for his bigger sister.

Sheriff Stilinski, John, promised not to tease his own son and warn him every time he saw some suspicious sign on his body only if he got to eat steaks more often. Stiles reluctantly accepted, glaring at his dad for three hours straight.

In Fall, John and Stiles moved the latter's things to his new flat in New York, shared with Allison, Lydia and Scott. They all decided to go to the same college, Stiles and Allison in criminology and law enforcements, Lydia and Scott in Science, even if Scott did it to later specialize and become a vet.

Because of that, sharing an appartment seemed the cheaper solution – not that Lydia or Allison couldn't afford one of their own, or both of them together. They just decided to help the boys out.

The group was then used to the never ending bantering on Stiles' body, just like Laura, Isaac, Boyd and Erica were used with Derek.

New developments actually came when Lydia decided to see if someone else they knew had signed themselves at the NYU.

Isaac, Boyd and Erica, in fact, went to school all together with Stiles' group, and they were also good friends, until they moved a year and half ago to stay with Derek, their alpha. (He changed them during the summer at the end of junior year)

When Lydia found out, she thought, why not pay them a little visit?

 

 

Stiles initially agreed with Lydia that it could have been a very fun encounter, but sitting them, in one of the halls of the Hale Business Company wasn't so funny.

His hands actually itched with the need to write something on his face to shamelessly tease his soulmate (which he still didn't know if they were a girl or a boy) so he barely payed attention to the guys' story.

“We attended a high school next to the company, actually” was saying Isaac, leaning on the wall with still the scarf on. “Working in the midtime. It's cool, the bosses aren't so bad. Laura is good, and Derek lately is really a lot of fun.”

“Now we're starting college, so they will rearrange their schedule to not prevent us from taking our classes, and Boyd will have less shift here, or eventually better scheduled” Erica finished. Lydia was nodding, asking some question about their flat, when Boyd frowned at him.

“Stiles, why are you growing green beard?” Stiles shook himself from his trance, stopping tapping his leg against Erica's desk.

“What?”

Erica and Lydia both looked at him before Isaac, Scott or Allison, and the red head sighed dramatically. “Oh, here we go again” she said. “It's his soulmate, they keep insulting each other this way. I guess it just goes on and on.”

Erica laughed loudly when Stiles got a red marked from her stock of pens, probably to shot an answer right back, and while he was writing on his forehead with the help of his phone's camera, she turned to Lydia again. “Actually, Isaac's boss Derek has the same problem. I guess there are a lot of shitty soulmates out there for it to happen so much.”

“Oh, really?” Stiles asked nonchalantly. “What's his name again?” he now had half a sentence written on his skin, which read _MY ASS STINKS_ and something else she couldn't quite figure out.

“His name is D-”

“ _YOU._ ” a deep voice growled, effectively cutting off Erica's words. Her head shot in the direction of the growl, soon followed by everyone else in the hall, and Stiles saw the first time the hottest guy he ever laid his eyes on, with wide shoulders, toned chest under that dark suit, long, strong legs with much stronger thighs, and a wonderufl face with perfect stubble, a chiselled strong jaw, green eyes and a– fuck, a green painted beard and red _MY ASS STINKS_ on his forehead.

“Derek Hale”, he whispered. Derek Hale. A guy. A very hot guy. Who actually seemed to be his soulmate.

And maybe, just maybe, judging by the murderous look in his eyes, Stiles wasn't going to make it out alive of there. He shouted goodbyes, grabbed his backpack as fast as he could, and ran for the elevator, thinking that maybe if he was quick enough...

Nope, didn't make it.

He barely made ten metres when strong hands gripped him and hoisted him on a large shoulder. Stiles asked for help, but Lydia just waved in her direction, and the other laughed their asses off.

The traitors.

 

 

Derek couldn't believe his luck.

He went to the bathroom to get revenge for the answer of that morning, got another one back, and then found the most handsome guy his eyes had the pleasure to lay on, right there in front of him, with the prooves he was the little shit he wanted to get revenge on.

Big brown Bambi eyes, sinful plush mouth, upturned nose and cute face with pale skin tempested with moles, Derek didn't know if he wanted more to kick him in the ass or kiss him to death.

Still in doubt, he opted for improvisation when he scooped him up to prevent him from fleeting, and marched strainght forward in his office, letting him go on the leather couch there and locking the door, but not until he heard the kids' bets.

“Bet he's gonna beat him up” Isaac snickered.

“Nah, he's gonna sex him up right and good” Erica replied. “On the desk.”

“Of course not! On the couch, at least.”

The red head interrupted them. “If I know Stiles at least half good as I think I do, they're totally going to fuck. _Both_ on the couch _and_ the desk. Maybe even against the wall, who knows.”

Derek considered the options while locking the door to his sound-proof office. He could beat him to a pulp, or vent with sex.

In his opinion, sex was a really good option.

“Please don't kill me” Stiles squeaked, rearranging his flailing limbs on the couch in an attempt at composing himself.

“Why shouldn't I?” Derek asked, angry. “You started it all. You deserve it!”

“Yeah, because you never answered till then! You big fat asshole, just- Just-” Stiles groaned, stomping his feet and getting up to confront him. He was almost Derek's height.

“Just what? You _did_ draw a giant penis on my forehead, and then _I'm_ the asshole?”

“Yes, you are!” Derek huffed in annoyance. “You fucking threatened to rip my throat out! With your fucking teeth!”

Derek glared. “I had my own good reason!”

Stiles snorted. “Yeah, sure. You were in a meeting and all of that” he said. “But writing on my face while I was having _an exam_ – Mmmphh! Mhhh-mhh!”

Derek had enough, frankly. Stiles was hot, of that he was sure, and he was talking to much. He pressed his lips against that sinful mouth, and Stiles opened so beautifully to him he couldn't but pull him flush against his body with his hands – clawless – on his narrow hips.

“Less talking, more kissing” he ordered. Surprisingly enough, Stiles didn't complain.

They ended up pressing one another against Derek's desk, and Derek didn't exactly know how, but suddenly he was shirtless and Stiles was down to his own boxer, shoving a hand in Derek's underwear to take out his cock and pump it hard and steady. Derek groaned against Stiles' mouth, tilting his hips up to thrust into that fist.

“Mh, wait” he mumbled against Stiles' tongue. “I don't have anything here beside condoms.”

“Where you have 'em?” Stiles asked, parting from him and looking up with wide eyes, pupils blown so much his eyes were reduced to a barely visible circle of amber. His lips looked kiss-swelled and red with spit.

Derek grunted out another groan at the sight. “Wallet, right behind you.” Stiles flashed him a blinding smile.

“Lube, side pocket of my backpack” while Derek searched for the lube – he didn't ask why he had it there, he didn't want to know yet –, Stiles messed up Derek's desk even more looking for the wallet, and when he found it he took out the two L condoms stucked there. “Fuck, I should've come here sooner.”

“Yeah, you should've” Derek agreed, bringing the lube there and leaving it in order to take down Stiles' underwear and free his negletted cock. Stiles' skin flushed down to his chest, the latter heaving with irregular breathing due to their arrousal. “But now I've got something else in mind you should do.”

“Yeah?” huffed Stiles, smirking slightly while Derek kneeled and started pumping his leaking shaft. “Like what?”

Derek looked up at him. “Like fucking my mouth.”

Stiles didn't let him ask twice, and blowed his first load right inside his mouth, groaning and shouting since Derek had taken advantage of that to prepare him thoroughly until he could take four fingers.

“ _Fuck_ , Derek, please!” Stiles shouted, cock already half hard again after all the finger-fucking. “Just give it to me!”

“Give you what, Stiles?” Derek manhandled him onto the couch, sitting down and putting the boy on his lap. He teased Stiles' leaking hole with the blunt head of his cock. “What do you want?”

“I want you” Stiles whined. “I want you, I want your cock in me, filling me up good and proper, please, please, Derek, _give it to me_!”

Stiles had barely the time to finish speaking, before Derek's hip thrust up in a smooth motion, bottoming out all at once. Stiles shouted his name during the penetration, nails digging into his shoulder with pleasure. After adjusting, Stiles proceeded on riding Derek's brain out of his dick, shifting up and down on his hard cock and rocking his hips when flush inside.

After a while Derek started meeting him thrust after thrust, his own fingers digging into the soft flesh of Stiles' hips, and he couldn't control the shift that better that he didn't change eye color.

Stiles saw his irises change from green to red, but that didn't have the probably normal effect to freak him out, no. If possibly, it was a major turn on. “What are you?” Stiles moaned, looking at him in earnest.

Derek smirked, showing his long fangs. “Werewolf” he grunted out. “Scared?”

“Never” Stiles returned the smirk only to fasten the pace of his riding, his shout getting louder and louder until Derek thought Laura could hear him the same in spite of the sound-proof walls.

Derek could also feel he was _this_ close to come. “C'mon, Stiles” he growled. “Come for me. _Come_ , Stiles, come!”

And how couldn't Stiles not obey? He came with a shout, shooting white ropes of come on his and Derek's stomachs, so hard they reached Derek's collarbones. After around five, six thrusts, Derek came too, hiding his face into the crook of Stiles' neck and shoulder, breathing deep and nice.

Time a few seconds, and Stiles slumped against him, blissfully limp from the hard edge he just tripped over. “So, a werewolf, huh?” he mumbled silently. “That explains why you scent-marking me right now, doesn't it?”

Derek laughed. “Yeah, that kind of does” he mumbled right back.

 

 

“So again, who started it?” Laura was smirking, amusement clear in his face. They were all at dinner, having decided to make it “official” after the sex round in Derek's office (no off-limits for all the weres for at least a week).

Stiles had the guts to look a bit ashamed of it. “Uh, I started it” he confessed. “Drawing a penis on my forehead. I was wondering what it could have happen, especially to my soulmate.”

“Well, you did ruin a perfect day at work” Derek deadpanned, arcuing an eyebrow. “But you didn't stop after.”

“Of course I didn't!” affirmed Stiles, offended. “You didn't answer to me. And let me tell you...”

“Yeah, yeah” Derek snorted, making the others laugh. “You don't get to _ignore_ Stiles Stilinski.”

 


End file.
